


Travelling

by ownedbyacat



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: AU, Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 09:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15167675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ownedbyacat/pseuds/ownedbyacat
Summary: Yunho's trapped in time and Changmin's heartbroken.





	Travelling

**Author's Note:**

> I know I've not written any "real" HoMin/MinHo in ages... my most recent attempt morphed into an original fantasy novel that's almost ready to publish... but the video to _Road_ just hit me right in the feels. And while I'm crazy busy writing and editing, I had to fit in a bit of time for this strange time travel story.  
> It's short, it's rough and my only apology is that watching the boys in Japan made me a little emoshinki...

It shouldn’t hurt so fucking much.

Yunho’s fingers closed around the pocket watch. He’d carried it for centuries, through wars and peace time, and halfway around the world. Every time he forged a connection with another human he waited for the hands to start moving.

They never did.

His was a lonely life, lived in an endless bubble of frozen time with only glimpses of the people who lived and loved and died around him. And every time he walked away it hurt, and he died a little more inside.

Soon, there’d be nothing left of him. And maybe, maybe this had been his destiny all along.

With a sigh, Yunho shoved the watch back into the inside pocket of his coat. Clothes had changed in the years he’d roamed the earth. Back when he’d found the watch on the beach—back when he’d _lived_ —there’d been no jackets. He’d carried the watch in a pouch on his belt, intrigued by his find. He’d pulled it out often, to marvel at it. To wonder at its purpose, wonder who’d made such a thing.

He hadn’t noticed, at first, that he stayed young while everyone around him aged. He spent a lot of his time on the road, exploring, enjoying new sights and new experiences. He didn’t often return home, but every time he did, things had changed. And he noticed when people he’d known all his life grew old and died.

That’s when he realised it.

Like the hands that never moved, he didn’t either. Oh, he could come and go, wander and explore and learn to his heart’s content, but he moved through time, not with it.

He’d tried to lose the watch then. Throw it away, even destroy it. He left it behind in so many places, sometimes deliberately, sometimes by accident, but the moment he'd reach for it, there it’d be, cool and sleek, with hands that never moved.

***

It shouldn’t hurt so fucking much.

Changmin stared at the sketch pad, wondering why he’d brought it with him. Just as he wondered why he’d attended his best friend’s wedding when she’d made it clear that the heir to a pharmaceutical company she'd met three months earlier was worth more than twelve years of close friendship and a box of promises.

He’d been there for her as he’d always been there for her and had watched her make promises to someone else. He’d walked away after that, unable to endure the party, knowing it was the last time he saw her.

His heart bled, and he died a little as he turned his back on his love, but he kept walking, not sure where he was going, but sure of his path.

Three days later he stood on a beach. He couldn’t have said how he’d gotten there or why his subconscious had chosen this particular place of all the locations it could have taken him to. He couldn’t have said what he was waiting for. But he trusted his instincts, opened his mind and let the peace of the sea and the endless blue of the sky soothe the pain in his heart.

***

Night came too soon, but he didn’t want company.

Tired of moving but too restless to sleep, Yunho found a tiny inn and sat wondering, as he had on thousands of other nights, what had made him go to that deserted beach. Wondering why he’d picked up the watch would have been stupid. Anything new and different had fascinated him back then.

Back then… several lifetimes ago. He’d learned since that there was truly nothing new under the sun. Life, love, loyalty, betrayal—one long cycle enacted over and over. Was this why nobody caught his eye anymore, why he could go months without having a meaningful conversation with anyone? Because they had nothing new to say to him?

And what did that mean for his chance of finding the one person who could break him out of his prison? Was he truly meant to wander—alone—to the ends of time?

***

Night came too soon, but Changmin didn’t want company. He was too heartsore for conversation, too hurt to put on a brave face and joke as if nothing was wrong. He was a man who needed ideals to worship, causes to cling to. In another era, he might have been a saint, a troubadour, or a revolutionary. But causes like these had lost their meaning long ago.

He’d made do. He’d given many years of his devotion. To a friend. A woman. His love.

Having that thrown back in his face… he surely was allowed some time to grieve, to be silent, to heal. And he found a tiny place, in a tinier village, to spend the night. Alone.

When the mirror didn’t show his reflection, Changmin was too tired to be freaked out and too fascinated by the face looking out of the glass. It wasn’t someone he’d ever met, but his eyes were kind. And sad.

And slowly, almost compulsively, Changmin reached out a hand. Watched the intriguing man in the mirror do the same and laid his hand where the other’s rested.

Nothing happened.

At first.

***

The mirror didn’t show his reflection. It rarely did these days. It was one of the quirky side effects of his condition that mirrors showed him other people more often than they showed him his own face. He’d gotten used to it over the years, knew that turning away from the glass and returning a short while later would change the vista. That, at some point, the mirror would stop showing other faces and let him get on with mundane tasks like shaving or brushing his hair.

He barely paid attention to the faces anymore, but this night, the soul-deep ache in a pair of dark eyes caught his attention. It was a man’s face he saw, with sharp cheekbones and a generous mouth. Someone who looked as if he could laugh and enjoy life, once he’d shaken off the pain that flattened the full lips and turned them down at the corners.

It was a compelling face. One that intrigued him as nothing had in too many lifetimes. Slowly, knowing he couldn’t do anything else, Yunho stretched out his hand and fitted it against the palm resting on the far side of the glass.

And felt a rush of heat that brought to life all the parts of him that had died over the millennia of his life.

***

Walking was the only option. Changmin didn’t know why. The feeling that the bus would be too slow if the only other option was going on foot held no logic, but Changmin believed in his instincts. The image in the mirror had followed him into his dreams and wasn’t letting him go. Maybe walking would help with that.

Deep inside where his fate made decisions, he had a notion that he had to go to a beach. A different beach than the one he’d found himself on the day before. And that he wouldn’t be alone when he got there.

When a car approached, he stuck out his thumb, experimentally, not expecting a response.

The car stopped.

The driver had hidden his eyes behind a modish pair of sunglasses, but Changmin would have recognised him anywhere.

The man he’d seen in his mirror the night before. The man he’d met in his dream.

***

Yunho had known, deep inside, who was flagging down his car. Had known long before he touched the brake. The cheekbones were unmistakeable. And the wide smile couldn’t completely hide the pain in the expressive eyes.

To his surprise, the ride wasn’t silent. They fell into easy conversation, talking as if they’d known each other all their lives. The miles flew by and Changmin—his name was Changmin—made him laugh and smile and joke and be serious as he hadn’t been with anyone in years. Most of all, he made Yunho feel alive. Real. As if he mattered.

It was a heady feeling, like strong wine.

And the hope that followed on the heels of it was terrifying.

***

Another beach, this one even more peaceful than the one he’d found himself on three days after he’d walked away from his love. Sunset colours that defied his brush and his words. A man by his side who’d made him laugh and cry and enjoy life as he hadn’t in a long time.

True companionship.

Changmin had forgotten what that felt like.

***

Sitting by the fire and listening to the waves roll in and out in their timeless, unhurried way was soothing. Watching the sadness in his companion’s eyes was not. Yunho had seen too much sadness in his long existence and Changmin’s hurt seemed deeper than memories contained in a sketch book seemed to warrant. Changmin hadn’t said so, but Yunho wondered whether someone had died.

He wanted to touch, to offer comfort, but being unsure of the source of Changmin’s hurt, he held back.

Only for Changmin to tear out the pages of the sketchbook one by one before feeding them to the flame just as meticulously. He waited for each sheet to burn to ashes before he settled the next one in the fire, and Yunho read a whole story in the fiery procession. A love that had grown over years, carelessly cast aside by a woman too young, too shallow, or too stupid to appreciate and cherish the devotion she’d been offered. And a man who had found it in himself to wish her well regardless.

Yunho felt something inside of him rear up and roar its demands at the sight of the single tear making its way down Changmin’s cheek. He wanted to tell the man by his side not to waste the emotion, to look around and take a chance on something new, but he held his peace. This wasn’t his decision to make.

Hope prompted him to check the watch. The hands hadn’t moved, but for the first time ever, Yunho felt that they might.

***

They travelled onwards together. Each starved of company in their own way, they cherished what the other offered. Hills became challenges to race each other. Rivers and lakes became places to relax and find peace. And always, always they returned to the ocean and its long swath of beaches.

They shared their first kiss soaking wet and standing waist-deep in the surf, and Yunho swore later that for that endless moment the ocean stopped breathing, the waves froze on their way to the beach, and even the air halted on its endless journey around the globe.

Changmin tasted of old sorrow and new hope and his touch eased Yunho’s loneliness.

They were so well matched, so in tune with each other, that becoming lovers felt like the joining of two huge rivers, smooth and with only ripples to show for such a momentous event. The passions that ran deep, the turbulent waters, the soul-deep yearning they kept hidden from anyone but each other. And even with each other they’d been careful. They’d taken their time, watched and learned and waited, until they both felt the time was right.

When they gasped out their passion to mingle with the ceaseless roar of the ocean, only the wind was witness.

The earth didn’t stop turning.

The heavens didn’t fall.

But Yunho’s watch, that mysterious device that had kept him trapped in time, started ticking. And its hands moved as its maker intended.


End file.
